The Innocence of Younger Days
by i-embrace-OCD
Summary: This is a short series featuring a story per character about his or her life before all of this happened. Just to give you a heads up, it's not very shippy. Dramatic or funny, maybe, but I'm not specifying a genre because they'll all be different.
1. His Inevitable Destiny

Author's Note: New series featuring a story about each character based on something that happened when they were little. Like, we all know that Aang had to have had a mother, so... what about her? I'll always state what's going on before the installment begins (see below). I'll update, but I don't know how often. I'm thinking weekly intervals, give or take a little.

This is a short and sweet idea of when the monks collected Aang. I'm going to go ahead and tell you that this is, once again, only an idea. This is based on no facts, only circumstances that probably didn't occur as demonstrated in the following account. I repeat: This is not what actually happened. This is only an idea.

Thanks to my beta Child of the Mind!

Disclaimer: If I owned Avatar, then my theories wouldn't be theories. They'd be facts, circumstances, truths... yeah. So, therefore, I do not own Avatar.

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1: His Inevitable Destiny (Aang, age 3)

Misaki saw the monks before they arrived. They came through the thick mist that tumbled over the hillside on that crisp Autumn evening, the Day of Separation. They approached her, in a slow but sure gait, with a sort of certainty that Misaki dreaded. The less distance that the monks put between she and them, the closer she held her son.

When they finally reached her, she clutched her son tightly. Then she spoke in a hurried fit. "He's not supposed to go to the Southern Temple until he is a least five years of age."

Three elderly monks stood before her. They lived at the Southern Air Temple and had come to collect Aang from his mother. "You know the procedure," the one at the front of the group told her. "We have to begin his training as early as possible, and we don't want him to... have any family-related recollections." He did not smile, did not offer condolences, gave no sympathy... this was the way.

Misaki held the bundle in her arms with tender care. "You mean that you don't want him to... remember me," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Correct. It has been this way every time an Avatar has been an airbender. It is tradition."

A second monk took a step forward. "Memories, attachments, they get in the way. The Avatar does not need earthly attachments." He looked at the third -the only one with a hint of emotion on his face- but kept his speech directed to Misaki. "He cannot know you because if something were to happen, he would take his own emotions into account."

"What about love?" Misaki questioned. "Can he not fall in love?"

"He will love," the third informed her. "He must love. He is human, he is capable of all human emotions."

"But his love must be unbiased," the second toned in.

The first monk turned to glare at his colleagues. "Misaki," he said, his words pained, "this is a very complicated matter. He must have the ability to go into the Avatar State at will and must be fully aware of his actions when that time comes, and earthly attachments block his seventh chakra. You know that."

Misaki nodded solemnly. She _did_ know about chakras, knew that open chakras were essential to controlling the Avatar State. Everyone knew this. It was basic knowledge- and she was more informed than most, being the biological mother of the Avatar. "I... understand."

"Good," the first monk said. "Now... we need the child."

She looked down toward her son, her only son. "The Avatar," she breathed. She redirected her gaze to the first monk. "What about Aya?"

"What about her?"

"Do I... never tell her? Never let her know about her brother, her twin brother?"

"Do not tell her. She must never know."

Misaki's heart fell. "So I'll never see him again?"

"Impossible to tell. No, you will never see your son again, but you may very well see Avatar Aang." The first monk held out his hands. "His care at the monastery will be nothing short os pristine. He will be perfectly safe."

Tears brimmed in Aang's mother's reluctant eyes. "I love you," she whispered as she carefully transferred her son to the monk's open arms.

The third monk approached her and brought her into his embrace. "I will be his guardian," he told her. "He will be fine, I promise."

"Gyatso," the first barked- something that completely contradicted the way he looked. "We must leave." Gyatso gave Misaki one last pat of sympathy as he rejoined his colleagues.

Misaki's tear-filled eyes gazed at the steadily fading image of her only son, her baby, somehow knowing with an unspeakable sorrow that this would be the very last time she would ever see him. It broke her heart.

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**Author's Note: I always kind of wondered about Aang's first family- because we all know he had to have one. This is just an idea of how the whole thing worked out. He chose the toys at some ceremony a few days before this, and, well... yeah. This was shorter than most of the other installments in this series. Review!**


	2. Her Mother's Necklace

Author's Note: Longer than the first, as I previously stated. This is about how Katara got her mother's necklace. It illustrates a little insight into the relationship that she and her mother had. And, just for good measure, I'll go ahead and restate what I said in the first installment: This is an idea. Every single update will be based on an idea. I repeat: JUST AN IDEA. NOT WHAT ACTUALLY HAPPENED.

Disclaimer: I don't own Katara, or anything about Avatar: The Last Airbender.

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2: Her Mother's Necklace (Katara, age 6)

Katara squirmed uncomfortably. Sitting still during family meetings was _so _hard! Gran-Gran was droning on about some sort of "tribal duty" and kept using terms like "battle" and "bloodshed." Katara didn't think those were very nice words anyway, and she really didn't like hearing them repeated over and over and _over..._

"Katara," Katara's mom whispered, "your Gran-Gran's talking. Try to keep still."

Katara nodded. She was _trying _to please her mother -honest- but she couldn't control her attention span. She was six, after all, and wasn't as mature (or as interested in this horrid topic) as her big brother, Sokka. The seven-year-old in question had his eyes glued to his grandmother, absorbing every word she was saying.

_Dumb boys, _Katara thought. _Who actually wants to listen to this blood-talk?_

Katara must have squirmed some more, because her mother grabbed her hand and led her out of the extra-large tent. _I'm in trouble. I know I'm in trouble, _the little girl thought over and over as she tried to keep up with her mother's long, determined strides.

"Come in here, baby," Katara's mother said gently, leading her into a smaller tent nearby.

"I'm sorry, Mama," Katara pleaded. "Please, I'm sorry, I won't do it anymore!"

"Shush, hush, it's okay! Baby, it's okay. I'm not angry with you."

"You're... you're not?"

"No! No, I understand. I hated sitting through _my _grandmother's talks when I was a little girl, too."

"I'm not a little girl. I'm a big girl," Katara protested, allowing the hurt expression on to face to be replaced with a slightly annoyed look. Her gaze drifted to the necklace around her mother's neck, and she had to keep the glistening admiration that she felt for the object away from her expression.

"I know, I know. Why don't you just sit down here and let me braid your hair?"

Katara reluctantly nodded, still unsure of whether or not she was in trouble. "Okay."

The six-year-old plopped down on the floor. Her mother grabbed a comb from nowhere and starting taking the knots out of Katara's hair, humming quietly.

"Mama?"

"Yes?"

"Why is Gran-Gran using mean words?"

Katara's mother stopped humming and considered what she should say next. "First," she decided, "You need to tell me if I can trust you not to get upset."

"I won't cry, Mama. Promise," the six-year-old assured her mother.

The woman's face suddenly looked older, much more aged than it should have. War did that to people. "Okay, if you're sure," she said. "Gran-Gran's telling everyone in the tribe about the concept of war. Do you know what war is?"

Katara didn't know what war was exactly. She knew it involved people leaving their families like when her dad traveled to the Earth Kingdom, blood like when her brother cut himself, years like it took for her to learn that she was a waterbender... but she didn't really _know. _"Not really."

"War is... complicated," Katara's mother decided. "It's very dangerous and horrible and you better hope you never have to deal with it. Gran-Gran is lecturing the tribe on certain things pertaining to the war... talking about how we can do our part."

"Why is Gran-Gran doing it? Why can't dad?"

"Your father isn't nearly as old as my mother," the older woman chuckled. "Gran-Gran has a lot more experience with things like this."

"Why do we even have to do anything?" Katara demanded, blowing on a stray hair. "It's not our place, is it, Mom?"

Katara's mother knew that when her daughter called her "Mom" instead of "Momma" or "Mommy," she was serious. It was a sign of maturity in her daughter; sometimes she loved seeing it... and sometimes she didn't. "We all need to help out," she said, unsure of how to explain the complexities of war to her six-year-old. "You'll understand better when you're older."

Katara crossed her arms in a defiant gesture. "I want to understand _now_."

"I know, I know." Katara's mother was already halfway through with her daughter's braid. Her hands were swift, adept, skilled. How was she supposed to explain that it was their place, it was everyone's place, to contribute to the war effort? How was her six-year-old supposed to comprehend such complex concepts? Why did the children even have to know about the war? Such early corruption...

Katara sat patiently as her mother worked on her hair. It was strange, how she could sit still easily when her mother was braiding her hair but couldn't when a big, important family meeting was going on. Then again, her grandmother was talking about _war- _of all possible topics! How come she had to know? She was too young to wander the ice fields by herself, or even with a friend, but she wasn't too young to listen to her own grandmother speak of the horrors and burdens of war? What kind of reasoning was that?

"War happens when some big people don't get along with each other," she murmured, continuing the topic. "The world... generally lives in harmony. When that harmony is interrupted, say, by a nation or two, we try to bring back the peace. Do you understand that?"

Katara shook her head. "How could something like war bring peace?"

"Well... we try to make them understand why we need the peace. If they do not see that, or if they want to blindly continue with angry tirades, then we try to..." The words _put them in their place _pounded in the older woman's mind, but that sounded cruel, and she wanted to shield her young daughter as much as possible. She should be informed, though... "We try to wipe away their mistakes and force them back into the harmony. It takes lives, but those lives are well spent on the protection of more lives and the preservation of cultures." She considered mentioning something about the Avatar, but her daughter would learn all about that in due time. Besides, she didn't want to get her baby's hopes up when the possibility of the Avatar's coming to save them was almost nonexistent.

The two sat in silence for a while. After a bit of time, though, Katara's mother began to talk again. "Almost... finished." The older woman tossed her daughter's braid over the little girl's shoulder.

"Thanks, Mom," Katara said, still thinking.

The six-year-old began her return walk to the tent where her grandmother was speaking, but her mother called her back. "Hey, Katara? Don't go just yet."

She hurried back to her mother, who was taking off that beautiful necklace that Katara admired so. "I... want you to have this. A little something to remind you of me, to keep me in your thoughts."

Katara reached up and took it. Her mother tried to help her fasten it around her neck, but Katara swatted her hand away. "I can do it."

The woman smiled. "I know." Katara put the necklace on with only a little difficulty, and then, with a quick, thankful look to her mother, she sprinted to the nearest body of water to gaze at her reflection.

Her mother watched her go, proud and, although she hated it, a bit sorrowful at the same time. She had been planning on giving her daughter that necklace later, when she was older- it was only the prospect of war, the possibility of their lifespans being shorter than expected, that drove her to give away her most precious possession so early. Indeed, it was her most precious possession. Material-wise, anyway.

She wanted to be able to see her daughter wear that necklace, wanted to see the gleam in her eyes as she was presented with it, wanted to know that her daughter would be able to have something to remind her of the woman who gave it to her in case something actually _did_ happen. It filled her heart with joy, watching her daughter be so proud of an item with such sentimental value. She hoped that she'd be around to watch her daughter blossom into the young woman that she would on day be, but, with such troubled times in their midst, she wasn't so sure she'd have the chance.

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Author's Note: You know, nothing makes an author happier than a nice review... that blue button isn't there for nothin'!


	3. His Embarrassing Predicament

Author's Note: The name "Miya" sounds like "my-uh," not "mee-uh." Just wanted to make that clear...

This... is interesting. Of course, we all know that Sokka got two fishhooks stuck in his thumb, so... here's the story.

Disclaimer: I don't own Avatar: The Last Airbender.

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Edition 3: His Embarrassing Predicament (Sokka, age 8)

"Kuh-TAR-uh!" Sokka exclaimed, snatching his boomerang back. "That's MINE!"

Katara was seven. She had matured phenomenally in the past year, and her attitude (and lack of admiration for her brother) had grown accordingly. "Mom said I could see it!"

"Well it's MINE!"

"MO-OM! SOKKA'S BEING MEAN!"

The siblings' mother stalked over. She was at her wit's end with her two children, who, nowadays, hardly ever got along. She was getting sick of it. To avoid yelling at them and hurting youthful feelings, she inhaled... exhaled... "Sokka, please let your sister see your new toy."

"But this is MY boomerang! Dad gave it to me special!"

Their mother rolled her eyes and breathed deeply. "Fine. Just separate, then. Sokka, you run along that way, and Katara, you run along that way. No contact whatsoever, okay? Mom's gonna go back into Gran-Gran's tent and have a nice, soothing cup of tea..."

Their mother walked away, leaving the two siblings glaring at each other. Sokka tucked his boomerang away, shielding it protectively.

Suddenly a bright voice broke the stiff silence. "Hey, guys!" It belonged to a young girl, about Sokka's own age, who was waving at them vigorously. She had her hair up in a ponytail.

"Hey, Miya!" Katara called back. Sokka cocked his head questioningly.

"Miya's dad fishes with our dad," Katara supplied helpfully, though her expression was everything but pleasant.

Miya ran over. "I was... going to... go watch our dads... catch some fish... and thought maybe... you guys would like to... come, too," she managed to say, panting.

"That sounds great," Katara grinned. "Sokka can't come, though. Mom says we have to stay away from each other for a while."

"Oh. Sorry, Sokka," Miya murmured.

"It's no big deal. Men like me have better things to do than watch other guys fish. I have, uh, manly stuff to do."

Katara giggled. "Like what?"

"Um... sharpening my boomerang," Sokka replied, unsheathing his weapon so Miya could see it.

"You aren't allowed to go near any of the sharpening tools," Katara taunted.

"Am so!"

"No, you're not, and I don't have time to stand here and listen to your yapping. C'mon, Miya." Katara grabbed her friend's arm and stalked away. Sokka watched them go and considered shouting after them but thought better of it; after all, Katara would simply shout some rude reply, and although he hated to admit it (he would never, ever say it out loud), if it came to a battle of the wits, Katara would beat him.

Sokka put his new boomerang back into its pouch and shifted his attention back to the retreating pair. Miya's ponytail bounced as the girl skipped alongside his little sister, and the two seemed to be having a very animated conversation, now; Katara was using her hands to illustrate some sort of large quantity, and Miya was nodding enthusiastically. He could hear Katara's bright voice carrying toward him, but he couldn't make out the words. Were they talking about him? Was she telling Miya how selfish he'd been earlier?

He shook his head. Selfish? He hadn't been selfish. And why did he care, anyway? It wasn't like he _liked _Miya... he didn't even know the girl. He'd only seen her once. And still, he thought she sure was pretty... very upbeat, too. She seemed really nice...

_What in the world is wrong with me? _He approached a puddle and gazed at his reflection. He looked the same- the tuft of a ponytail ("Warrior's Wolftail," his dad had corrected him), the blue eyes, the brown skin, the mouth and nose that had always been there... he was the same. Exactly the same as he had been the day before, and the day before that.

Why, then, did he feel so strange?

He diverted his gaze to Miya and Katara. They were very distant now, almost out of sight. _Follow them, _something prodded, and he obeyed.

At the lake, he noticed his father readying a boat to head out into the water. He glanced at Miya- she and his sister had wandered a couple of feet into the water and were gazing in the direction of their feet intently, their eyes following what he thought to be fish that were swimming just beneath the surface. He hurried over to has dad and asked, "Hey, Dad? Can I come, too?"

Hakoda smiled down at the small boy before him. He glanced at the sky, then said, "Sure, Sokka. This isn't for work, so I have a little time to spend with you for fishing."

Sokka grinned. That was exactly what he wanted. He hoped Miya would see him fishing, would talk about how brave and talented he was when he caught a big one. Most boys in his tribe knew how to fish at his age- he'd been one of the first to learn. It had never been his strong point, but hey, he wasn't _bad_...

He waved at the girls to get their attention. They didn't see him. When he realized this, he got a little frustrated and yelled, "Hey, Miya! Katara!"

They glanced up, and when Katara saw her brother waving to them, she turned her gaze back toward the water. Miya glanced at her friend, then followed suit.

Sokka got an annoyed expression on his face. "You guys! Watch!"

Katara didn't look up this time, but Miya did. She turned to Katara, seemed to say a few words to her, then Katara looked up, too.

Sokka grinned triumphantly. He was in a hurry because he didn't want to lose the girls' attention and was especially distracted, so when the fishhook went clean into his thumb, it wasn't actually as surprising as he found it to be.

There was a moment of silence as Sokka realized what he'd done. Then, of course, the pain registered. "Agh! Ow, OW, get it off, get it off!" Sokka shook his hand vigorously, only worsening the stab.

Hakoda turned around immediately and took one second to evaluate the situation. "Sokka! Sit still! Here, let me-"

"Augh, ow! No, I can do it..." He jerked his head around, a tear of pain falling from his left eye, and snatched at another fishhook with his spare hand. The girls ran up to the boat, alarmed. Hakoda frowned and adopted a curious look.

"What are you- Sokka, don't-!"

Sokka tried to pry the dratted fishhook from his thumb with the other fishhook that he held in his good hand, but as he tried to reposition the hook, it slipped. Now he had a grand total of two fishhooks stuck in his thumb, he was flailing and screaming worse than anyone within earshot had heard in their life, and both Katara and Miya were watching him with curious and slightly pained expressions. Things couldn't get much worse.

"Stop being such a baby," Katara snapped. Hakoda knelt down, grabbed Sokka's hand, and pulled out both fishhooks at the same time to make it as short and painless as possible.

Well, maybe painless wasn't the right word.

"OW!" he howled. "DAD! IT BURNS! OW! OWWW! Make it stop, make the pain stop!"

"Oh, Sokka..." The words _Your sister's right, stop being such a baby, _pressed against his lips, but he refused to say them. He wouldn't ruin his son's self-esteem worse than it already was. Katara would certainly taunt the poor boy about this for the rest of his days...

Hakoda knelt down. Then he tore off a piece of cloth from his shirt and wrapped it around Sokka's thumb. "It's tight," the boy protested.

"It's supposed to be tight," Hakoda replied. He finished bandaging Sokka's thumb and stood up, a sense of dismissal surrounding him. Sokka stood up and, now that the pain had dulled into a steady throb, took the time to allow embarrassment creep into him. His cheeks flamed.

"Need me to kiss it better?" Katara cooed.

Miya looked utterly sympathetic. "Are you okay? Do you need any help?"

Katara stopped giggling long enough to throw her companion an annoyed look.

"I'm... fine," Sokka insisted, refusing to sniffle. He shrugged. "It was just-"

"You got two fishhooks stuck in your thumb. That isn't _just _anything... How do you... I, dear brother, will never understand you."

Sokka nodded. "Yeah. Me, neither."

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Author's Note: Originally is was called "His First Crush," but I changed my mind on the story's title because, well, it _was_ embarrassing.


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